


My Love For You is Unadorned (But My Body is Not)

by quicheand



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: M/M, Nipple Piercings, Piercings, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5932594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicheand/pseuds/quicheand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tao gets some new piercings; Kris is profoundly affected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love For You is Unadorned (But My Body is Not)

Kris comes back to the dorm to find a grinning Chen holding up the shirt of a blushing Tao to an audience of the other three EXO-M members. Reactions range from Lu Han's wide-eyed look of astonishment to Yixing, who is cackling openly as he slaps his hand on his knee.

“What's going on?” says Kris. Chen leaps slightly in surprise, letting go of Tao's shirt, but Kris manages to get a glimpse of something that is small and silver and glints in the fading sunlight as Tao turns, before the black cotton of his T-shirt falls to obscure his chest.

“Tao got himself a pair of new piercings,” says Yixing, grinning. Kris raises an eyebrow.

“What, seriously?” He's not sure if he can reconcile the idea of quiet, shy maknae Tao getting a piercing through—there—but that momentary glimpse of silver had been evidence enough, hadn't it? He looks again; he thinks, maybe, he can see _something_ beneath the fabric covering Tao's chest, just where his left nipple is, and, just maybe, another _something_ in the same place on the right.

He clears his throat and looks up. His eyes fall on Tao's face, and the expectant expression there makes him feel somehow uncomfortable. He looks away. “Okay, well if everyone is done ogling Zitao for the day,” he says, feigning indifference, “I think it's about time to start thinking about dinner.” He looks around the room. “Whose turn is it to cook?”

Yixing gets up from where he's perched on the arm of the couch, and Tao shifts too, ready to follow him to the kitchen. The others disperse as well, off to their own rooms to bide the time until dinner is ready.

Kris stays in the living room, flips on the TV, but can't seem to focus on what's playing across the screen. He takes out his phone and sends out a few text messages instead, but can't seem to concentrate on that either. He shifts restlessly, alternating his apparently deficient attention between the loud Korean streaming from the television and the beeps of incoming messages coming from his phone in his hand until finally, Yixing hollers for them all to come and eat.

Everyone comes running in and grabs a bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks. Kris, being the closest to the kitchen, is the first to sit down at the table. The seats around him quickly fill up as well, and the room is soon filled with the lively sounds of mealtime—squabbling over favorite foods, clinking of silver- and glassware, scraping of wooden legs against the floor as someone or other shifts position in his chair.

Tao, having been busy putting the last of the pots and pans in the sink to soak, is the last to sit down. He ends up directly across the table from Kris; Kris glances up, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, to find Tao's eyes steadily on him as he pulls out his chair, then sits down and scoots back in. Kris chews slowly under Tao's stare, then swallows; the food sticks uncomfortably in his throat, and he breaks Tao's gaze to reach for a glass of water to wash it down. When he looks back again, Tao's gaze is directed elsewhere, an easy smile across his lips and folding in at the corners of his eyes as he listens to a joke Chen is telling, and Kris wonders whether he had only imagined Tao's stare in the first place.

 

 

Later that night, Kris walks into the bathroom to find Tao, fresh from his shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. Tao meets his eyes, dark gaze looking up at him through damp fringe. Kris gulps and does not let his eyes wander south to the bright twin barbells that twinkle in the flickering light. He can see them anyway, two spots of silver dancing around his peripheral vision.

“Just going to brush my teeth,” he says.

“Right,” says Tao. “Me too.”

Kris dawdles for another awkward moment before reaching forward and plucking his toothbrush from the holder on the counter. Tao does the same, then waits, patient, for Kris to finish squeezing a generous glob of toothpaste and pass the tube to him. Their fingers brush; Kris's eyes flicker down to where he thinks Tao's thumb is lingering purposely on his wrist, and Tao's chest—Tao's dark nipples, slight pink around the newly added metal—ends up squarely in his field of vision. He hastily pulls his hand away and turns to face the mirror. He is embarrassed to note, as he starts brushing his teeth, that his cheeks look redder than usual; he hopes Tao, who is meeting his eyes squarely in the reflected surface, doesn't notice.

He rinses, spits, and Tao follows suit. Tao reaches past him to dry his hands on the towel hanging on the rack by the wall, and Kris finds himself suddenly eye-to-eye with—. He follows the subtle sparkle as Tao returns to his original position. When he looks up, he's mortified to find Tao looking knowingly back at him.

“If you want to,” Tao says, after a beat, “you can touch.”

It takes a moment for Kris's mind to process these words coming from Tao's soft, shy voice. Then it does, and Kris splutters and turns red.

“I—no,” he says. “Uh. That's okay.”

Tao gives him a long look, eyes unreadable, and then steps back.

“Okay,” he says. “Suit yourself.”

He adjusts the towel around his waist and leaves a flustered Kris alone in the bathroom.

Eventually, Kris makes it back to his bedroom, face burning from the combination of skin treatments and—and what? embarrassment? shock? or—or. Xiumin and Lu Han are already asleep, Xiumin turned to face the wall and Lu Han snuffling softly in the bunk above him. Kris changes in the dark and gets into bed. He tries to time his inhalations and exhalations, tries to measure his breaths to the slow pace of sleep, but it's no use; his skin feels hot, blood prickling too close to the surface, and he can't get the image of Tao's earnest face, his smooth tan skin, the double metallic glint adorning his chest out of his mind.

Despite himself, despite the way every cell of his brain is warning him not to, Kris reaches down, breath stuttering already in anticipation, and slips a hand under the waistband of his boxers. He closed his eyes as he wraps a hand around himself; images of Tao, accompanied by the almost-too real sound of Tao's voice, strangely enticing despite its softness, flood automatically, unbidden, into his mind.

_“Duizhang...”_

Tao standing, shirtless, in the gloom in front of Kris.

_“Duizhang...”_

Tao biting his lip, wanting to speak but not quite sure if it's okay, not quite sure if he's allowed to.

_“Do you like it?”_

Tao shaking his hair out of his face, revealing his neat row of earrings before the dark strands fall back into place.

_“You can touch if you want...”_

Tao looking hopeful, looking expectant, looking lustful—Tao looking like he's wondering if he's brave enough to reach for what he wants.

_“Duizhang...”_

Tao breathing, wet and sultry, through moist lips, a gleaming ring decorating the lower.

_“Let me...”_

Tao's tongue darting out to wet swollen lips, allowing Kris a glimpse of a shining stud.

_“Let me do this for you...”_

Tao on his knees, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. Tao's fingertips, warm and soft, against the skin of Kris's thighs, tugging him gently closer. The cold, delicious press of tiny rounded points of metal against sensitive flesh as Tao swirls his tongue.

Kris bites off a moan and stifles the whimper that remains with his left hand as he comes all over his right.

 

 

Try as he might, Kris can't bring himself to look Tao in the eye the next morning. He's the last to stumble into the kitchen, chased by the peeved shouts of their manager. Chen and Xiumin greet him in tones far too cheerful for this time of day. Kris shoots them both dark looks, and goes to sit down at the table with Lay and Lu Han—the former is staring blearily at his toast and the latter is rubbing his eyes with a faint, dazed sleepy smile hovering about his lips; Kris feels much more at ease here.

Tao pulls out the chair across from him and sits down. “Good morning,” he says. Kris stares down at the tabletop, eyes tracing the swirling knots of wood and very decidedly not looking at Tao. After a moment, Tao adds, “Did you not sleep well last night, Duizhang?”

The quiet concern of his voice is too similar to the soft, imagined seduction of the previous night, and Kris finds himself swimming in images entirely inappropriate for the situation. “Blugh,” he says, and reaches for Lu Han's coffee, dragging it easily out of the other's loose grip. Lu Han blinks and blinks again, clenching his fingers lightly and staring at the spot where his coffee mug was a moment ago. Xiumin takes pity on him and pours him another cup, sliding it over the table to him.

By the time Kris resurfaces from his stolen cup of coffee, Tao has disappeared to his bedroom. Kris breathes out a sigh of relief and lets his limbs flop into an easy sprawl in the wooden kitchen chair.

 

 

It's easy enough to avoid Tao during the day; they're kept busy, and the other members are always there, along with the six members of K, a constant, reliable source of noise and distraction. The problem comes in the evening, after they've finished schedules and practice and have eaten and returned to the dorm. The members scatter to their rooms for some relative peace and quiet except for Kris, whose room of three gets cramped with Xiumin and Lu Han bouncing around, and Tao, who sticks with Kris rather than retreat to solitude in the room he shares with only the manager, when he's there.

Kris settles down on the couch with his laptop, bending his head toward the screen with more intent than his email inbox actually calls for as an excuse to focus his attention somewhere other than on Tao. He feels slightly guilty for brushing off Tao's attempts at conversation with terse, one-word replies, but he doesn't think he can handle allotting too much of his mental capacity to matters relating to Tao just now. Eventually, Tao curls up on the opposite end of the couch, long limbs turning in on himself for a nap.

Or so Kris thinks, until he hears a rustle of fabric and a sigh that is telling in its hushed familiarity—a sigh that Kris knows he has breathed himself, in the dark with his hand on his dick—a sigh he knows he sighed just last night. He very carefully does not look up from his computer screen, does not move one single muscle save for the rapid squeeze of his heart as he listens again, listens harder, just to make sure—and yeah, that is definitely the sound of—

He jerks upright, laptop almost sliding onto the floor in the process. Sure enough, Tao has one hand tucked beneath his shirt—Kris can see fingers groping, twisting—and the other is. Kris swallows, hard.

“What are you doing?” he says, voice low and deep, warning.

Tao shifts his gaze to him, without stilling either the gentle motion of the hand under his shirt or the one pressing in slow but insistent rhythm against the crotch of his sweats.

“Can't you tell?” says Tao, and Kris thinks he hears a plea hidden beneath the words. “Duizhang,” says Tao, “don't you know?”

Kris casts a swift glance around the dorm, making sure they're quite alone, that no one else is watching, listening.

“Why here?” he hisses. “Anyone could walk by any minute and see you—god, _I_ can see you—”

Tao hums, as if he finds this notion quite appealing indeed.

“Don't know you know?” asks Tao, again.

Kris looks around again, frantic, and then says, “Know what?”

Tao looks up at him, heavy-lidded, and Kris presses his laptop more firmly against his lap to hide the tightness in his pants.

“I told you last night, didn't I?” says Tao. “That you could touch, if you wanted to.”

Kris says nothing; all his attention is focused on trying to get his breathing under control.

“Duizhang,” says Tao.

It's exactly the voice that had plagued Kris's imagination the previous night—exactly the same tones, halfway between lustful and needy, exactly the same timbre, something that is neither quite admiring nor pleading—Kris snaps his laptop shut and stands in one swift motion. His knuckles are white where they grip the edges of his computer, but he's pretty sure his face is red.

“And I said no,” he says, or perhaps snarls, almost, and turns to head, at a brisk but jerky stride, to his room, Lu Han and Xiumin be damned.

He can feel Tao's eyes watching him the whole way there.

 

 

Monday night, Kris is the last one in the kitchen at night, cleaning up the mess of six boys. He sighs as he sets the last plate onto the rack by the sink, then dries his hands and flips the light switch as he heads out.

Tao opens his bedroom door just wide enough to stick his head out as Kris walks past in the hallway.

“Are you going to sleep?” he asks.

“Yeah,” says Kris.

Tao opens the door wider, wide enough for Kris to see he's shirtless, and he knows Tao's doing it on purpose, because he usually wears a shirt and sweats to sleep, because he usually doesn't like people to see him even partially undressed and here Kris has seen him half-naked or more twice in three days.

Still, the yellow light from the hallway glints gold off the silver of Tao's piercings, and knowing Tao's doing it on purpose doesn't make it any easier for Kris to keep himself from looking. Tao, of course, is waiting for this, waiting to catch Kris staring.

“You still can,” he says, “you know.”

Kris knows he should back away at this point, that he should say goodnight and go to bed, or just ignore Tao and continue on his way, but instead he finds that he's stepped the opposite way, that he's stepped closer to Tao's bedroom door. Tao opens the door wider still, the gloom inside seeping out into the lighted hall, inviting. Hating himself and angry with both of them, Kris accepts the invitation and crosses the threshold into Tao's room.

“Fine,” growls Kris, stepping closer, stepping into Tao's space. “You want to do this, let's do this—but then we're really going to do it, so you have to be sure.”

“I'm sure,” says Tao. “I'm sure—I want this.” His voice is surprisingly steady, surprisingly bold, and it's that more than anything that convinces Kris.

He doesn't say anything, just backs Tao up until his knees hit the bed and he falls back onto the mattress, then grabs his wrists and pins them as far apart as they'll, spreading him wide, opening him up. Kris keeps his eyes on Tao's, as he leans forward; he can see Tao's throat bob in anticipation, the lump there rising and falling in an offbeat rhythm. Kris lowers his head.

He licks a stripe down the center of Tao's chest, from the well between the knobs of his collarbones down to the upside-down V where his ribs flare out from his sternum. And then, after one last press of his thumbs into the soft flesh of Tao's wrists to make sure they'll stay put spread as they are, Kris brings his hands up to Tao's torso, fingers pressing none too gently into the grooves between his ribs. He takes one gleaming silver bar between his teeth and _tugs_.

Tao gasps, a breathy little sound that finds voice and becomes a moan at the end. Kris shoots a warning look up at Tao, adding a hard squeeze of his hands on Tao's ribcage for emphasis. Then he slides one hand up to flick at the metal piercing through Tao's other nipple. Tao bites his lip, hard, and Kris grins as he shifts over to lick at the sensitive flesh. He tongues at the place where the piercing enters Tao's flesh, the surrounding skin still pink and slightly swollen, then ghosts his breath over it. Tao shivers—Kris can feel it with his whole body. He does it again; Tao's hips buck up underneath Kris, and his fingers clench restlessly. He starts to pull his hands inward before remembering himself and snapping them back to the bed.

Kris spends a few more minutes biting and nipping, licking and playing with Tao's piercings. Finally, when Tao's hushed begging turns into a continuous murmur that never forms a complete thought (“Duizhang—please, please give me—let me—”), Kris sits up, straddling Tao's legs, just above the knee. Tao whimpers at the loss of contact, but falls still when Kris pulls his shirt off over his head. Discarding the garment somewhere over his shoulder, Kris then goes for the waistband of Tao's sweatpants; Tao helpfully lifts his hips, and Kris slides them down his legs until they're tangled around his ankles. Tao shimmies out of his underwear as well, then lies there biting his lip, flushing as Kris's gaze travels over him.

“It's too late to be shy about it now,” Kris tells him. Tao's eyes flick back up to meet his; Kris leans down and—finally—kisses him.

Tao moans into it. His hands scrabble for purchase at Kris's shoulders. Kris flicks at Tao's piercings, intrigued by the way Tao digs his fingers into Kris's shoulder blades and arches his hips up when he tugs _just_ so; he tries again, experimenting, seeing what responses he can elicit from Tao. Tao whimpers into his mouth, one hand falling from Kris's shoulders to lie tangled in the sheets beside his head, fingers clenching and unclenching restlessly.

“Please,” Tao groans, breaking away. “Please—”

Kris reaches down between them and wraps a hand around Tao. He jerks up and down, fingers a tight circle, twice. He shifts, adjusting—the angle feels weird to him, but a long, mewling whine escapes Tao's throat. Kris stills, grip loosening again.

“Shh,” he reminds Tao. “Don't want the others to hear.” Tao nods vaguely, the movement half-formed, like he's too out of it to agree properly. He looks absolutely wrecked, and Kris hasn't even gotten serious about jerking him off yet; Kris loves it. He kisses a trail up the line of Tao's jaw to his earlobe, bites lightly at the row of earrings there. Tao jerks, a full-body motion, rubbing up against Kris with the movement. Kris sucks in a sharp breath, then exhales shakily, warm air stuttering against Tao's skin. 

Tao reaches down, pulls at the waistband of Kris's pants. Kris rolls half off Tao, shifting his weight onto one elbow so that he can get them off, shoving them down his thighs until he can pull his legs out. He kicks them off the bed, impatient, and then rolls back again, pressing their bare cocks together for the first time.

Tao's head lolls back, and he gasps, sounding choked. Kris presses his lips to the exposed arch of Tao's neck in an effort to stifle a gasp of his own. He shifts his hips purposefully, and almost forgets his own advice to Tao, almost forgets to quiet the long moan that threatens to escape in response to the friction. Tao is rocking up against him in a steady rhythm now; Kris pushes back down to meet him.

He tangles a hand in Tao's dark hair, twisting, savoring the way Tao whimpers in pain in pleasure. His other hand sneaks back down to play with Tao's nipple again, and the piercing running through it.

“God,” Tao says in a breathy moan. “Just— _god_ —”

Kris laughs, sharp and humorless. Tao says something else, but the words are swallowed up when Kris fits their mouths together again. Tao's mouth opens easily, distractedly, letting Kris's tongue push in roughly. Kris reaches down, reaches between them, and wraps long fingers around both their dicks. Tao makes a noise that's almost a sob. Kris bites down, relentless, on his lip.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing his hips forward, into his fist, sliding against Tao. “Fuck, Tao.” Tao moans in agreement, bucking up under Kris.

“Zitao,” says Kris, a rough heated murmur beside Tao's ear. “Come for me,” he says.

Tao arches up, obedient as ever, and tenses as he come, hot streaks easing the glide of Kris's hand. Kris has to reach up and cover his mouth to muffle the moan that arises. He keeps jerking Tao, jerking them both off, even as Tao dissolves into bonelessness interspersed with periodic shudders. He leans his forehead against Tao's collarbone, tilted down; as he comes, he catches the glint of metal flashing out of the corner of his eye.

He casts about for something to clean them both off with, and decides his discarded boxers will have to suffice. He wipes the quickly cooling mess off their thighs and stomachs and leans over to drop the ruined underwear somewhere off the side of the bed.

When he turns back, Tao has his head propped up on his hand and is gazing at Kris. Kris squirms, wary of Tao's thoughtful expression.

“What?” he asks.

“I was just thinking,” Tao says. “Maybe I should get a tongue piercing next.”

“Oh _god_ ,” says Kris.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was aiming for a short porny ficlet, but as I am largely unable to write anything that falls under the realm of short (or, at least, under my realm of short), um. Here is this. I guess I would call it a medium-length, slightly-porny ficlet in which it takes quite a while to get to the porn.
> 
> Inspired by Tao's piercings, Tao's deep and profound crush on his not-so-deep and profound leader, and Tao's fucking voice. And by my sister, saying, "Can you imagine shy little Tao talking dirty to Duizhang in that shy little voice?" And then of course I couldn't imagine anything else. Also everything Tao says in this fic was originally thought of in Chinese, which makes everything sound 100% hotter and approximately 433% dirtier.
> 
> Also, just want to say I have no idea how it works in their actual dorm, but for the purposes of this fic, although Tao does share his room with the manager, it's more just Tao's single room and the manager has a bed there so he can crash for a couple of hours if they get back at like 2am and have to be awake again by 5. Because, you know, I had to clear a space for Kris and Tao to do their thing.
> 
> Also, if there is a question about why something is happening, the answer is probably, because it is part of Tao's plan of seduction. For example: "Why is the door not locked if Tao just got out of the shower and is still naked? Answer: "Because it is part of Tao's plan of seduction." Or: "Why is Tao reaching past Kris to wipe his hands on the towel that is far away when he has a towel wrapped right around his waist?" Answer: "Because it is part of Tao's plan of seduction." OwOb
> 
> Also, my filename for this is "Tao's Little Nips." Just FYI.
> 
> Also, 'cock' is the grossest word ever. Unless you are talking about roosters.
> 
> Longest author notes ever, but this is the end. Hope you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> ...Okay, I lied. But I just have to say this: Lu Han!!! In the scene with the coffee this is what is going through his mind: "Where's my coffee? Didn't I just have a cup of coffee? ...did I have a cup of coffee? Wait, where am I?"


End file.
